Syncopation
by ArcadiaArden
Summary: At this point in her life Jane knew that the better decision was to go with Maura. Always go with Maura. It was just that sometimes she forgot. Temporarily.
1. Chapter 1

Rizzoli & Isles – I certainly don't own them. I give a lot of credit to the people that do and thank them for letting me mess about with them for a bit. The story and any original characters that might crop up belong to my addled little brain.

Full dedication to Argyle_S who not only is a lovely writer but one of my favorite people to read on tumblr. I put out a call for prompts & this little story came from it. When the story ends I'll make sure I share the prompt and you can all let me know how I did ;)

The intent of this quick 6 shot is to leave you with some moments of laughter... and maybe we'll go "M"...

* * *

Jane was fully aware that some of her most bonehead moves were a direct result of her low tolerance level for irritation. At this stage in her life she could usually control it. Her world was hectic on a good day. So that loss of control? It didn't happen often. Because, really who had time for that? Not her. But when it did?

Shit tended to happen.

It was as if her mouth grew a personality all on its own and it spewed crap that she wanted to take back the second it fell from her lips. This 'minor personality quirk', as Maura had affectionately dubbed it, was the reason Jane was standing where she was at this very moment.

Surrounded by a bunch of wannabe jazz hipsters.

In a dress.

With a quick look around backstage all Jane wanted to do was hit the life rewind button and go back to last week. Christ almighty, she didn't belong here. Seriously.

The place smelled like martini mix, bourbon and some unidentified moldy odor. It was like she had landed in some weird support group for frustrated Boston artists. Jane looked over her right shoulder. There was this chick over in the corner that seemed to think that purple velvet in layers was the cat's meow and the frantic sway of her skirt was in time to her reverent mumbles.

Then there was the dude over by the back wall in his leather jacket and sunglasses, arms crossed in the darkened space. Jane couldn't figure out what his deal was. Maybe he was a reject from a reenactment of Grease. Then honestly, what was with the sweaty kid in the needlepoint pullover sweater? He looked constipated, sitting there, randomly twirling a saxophone between his legs. Maybe the sweater was making some sort of statement. Damn if she could figure it out though and she did this sort of thing for a living.

The kid caught her staring and raised his eyebrows like he was going to start talking and Jane quickly looked away and down at her own black dress. She plucked at the fabric. Frankly she figured she didn't make much sense to any of them either, but there was one vital truth separating them from her.

At least, in theory, they wanted to be here.

None of them had been bored last Friday night. None of them had made the poor decision to skillful maneuver their way out a Friday of wine and cheese with an enthusiastic Maura during her MFA patron tour of "Michelangelo: Sacred and Profane, Master Drawings from the Casa Buonarroti."

So no, certainly none of them had given away a perfectly reasonable, adult night of culture with their best friend for the misguided idea that a streetball match up against Southie's Ladder 19 was a good idea.

Damn Frankie. Damn him and his taunting offer of beer, sweat and a reminder of departmental righteousness. Damn him and his skilled assistance with helping her masterful, if slightly underhanded, bait and switch involving her mother and her mother's adoration for all things Italian.

In fact, now that Jane thought about it, this situation was mostly Frankie's fault. So, double damn him, even if it was practically a requirement that Ladder 19 get reminded that the BPD played on top and stayed on top.

A crash of metal on wood startled Jane from her internal tirade and she stared out from the right wing of the stage, watching the band disassemble their instruments so the next group could go on. Her stomach rolled violently. Nope, at this point in her life Jane knew that the better decision was to go with Maura. Always go with Maura. It was just that sometimes she forgot.

Temporarily. And then shit like this happened.

Now, maybe, maybe she was at fault for some of this predicament. But only a little bit. On reflection, Jane willing to admit she shouldn't have let Willy McNally get under her skin. She would even allow that perhaps what followed next was her second poor decision of that night, right after not going out with Maura. After all, Willy was one of the boys she grew up with.

Bastard knew the type of dirt you thought you'd left on the playground. Or in her case the stage in the main auditorium during "Senior Spring Extravaganza", circa 1994. And in her neighborhood the basic assumption was you would either be a cop, a priest or one of the people in desperate need of either. In other words, you grew up knowing how take care of you and yours. Roughly translated, that meant you learned to fight dirty. Came in handy on the job. Also came in handy for Willy.

Asshole had stood in front of her, red hair shining demonically, rubbing his hands. "Oh look who the BPD matched me up with. If it isn't good ol' Chicken Little. Remember how to run little Chicken? Those were good times, right Rizzoli?"

Jane knew she had growled because she was practically vibrating with the effort it was taking to not to respond. She almost made it too, except at times her middle finger had a life of its own. That only made Willy laugh harder.

"That all you got Chicken Little? Not surprised. You never could handle pressure. Explains why you became a cop." Then the cocky bastard winked at her and made the noise of a deranged chicken.

And then everything inside her went a little hazy with anger.

And her temper might have flared. Just a bit.

All of a sudden Jane could still feel what it was like to be up on that asinine stage in high school. Entirely against her will mind you. All thanks to her Ma's requirement that Jane take voice lessons if she wanted to play softball that spring of senior year. It had been weeks of arguing and lectures on becoming well rounded. Well that little idea of her Ma's had worked out really fucking stellar if public humiliation was part of her growth plan.

Watching the house lights dim again, Jane buried her face in her hands. She could still feel that moment when she had gone up on the stage in that ridiculous dress that had hung off her lanky frame. There were lights and there was sweat. Hers. A lot of it. Somebody had started the music but her stomach was rolling and when she opened her mouth, a strangling feeling made it impossible to breathe, never mind sing. But she did a damn fine job of sounding like chicken being murdered. Just like that it was all over for her in the halls of high school.

Some genius had linked 'chicken' for the stage fright with 'little' because she'd been more bones than curves. The clucking had been relentless until she had broken Joey Tirro's nose.

So when she'd been face to face with Willy and the asshole started clucking that stupid chicken cluck that had followed her for weeks during senior year, Jane would perhaps admit her judgment was clouded. There could be no other explanation for why she had taken the first bet.

Pure adrenaline was the only excuse she had for whatever had possessed her to accept the second.


	2. Chapter 2

See Ch 1 for disclaimers…

* * *

Maura debated her lipstick colors. She ran her finger along her choices. Did she pick something to draw attention to her mouth? She tapped her index and pointer finger back and forth over two options, debating. Finally she selected a third that was a more of a compromise between the pale, tinted gloss and the matte maroon stain. The claret color would draw attention but not be overt.

Her perfume selection was dabbed to her hairline at her temple, behind her ear, the side of her wrist and after a moment of hesitation, she lifted her pant leg and dotted behind her knees. Maura looked over her bedroom, smoothed a wrinkle from the duvet and straightened the throw pillows.

Just in case.

Standing at her full length mirror, Maura did a final inventory. Tonight she had decided to coil her hair up softly to expose her neck. Her shirt was black silk with an almost sheer illusion, the buttons were open low enough to invite the eye and the interlinked chains of her necklace were designed to hold the viewer there. Her black pants were soft, flowing, tight to her curves but loose at the leg. Everything designed to invite the viewer to imagine more with offering less. Nothing overt but certainly not conservative and hopefully appropriate for the night ahead.

Twisting her wrist to check her watch Maura realized she was earlier than she had anticipated. With a soft sigh she left her bedroom to wait in the living room.

Perched on the edge of her couch, Maura thought about the night ahead, mentally flipping through the scenarios and possible outcomes. So far Duane was proving to be splendid companion. She had stumbled on him quite literally when she had been touring the Harvard Natural History Museum waiting for a consult with an expert on entomology. She had come out of frustration, hoping the team at Harvard would be able to identify the partial pupal casing found on her latest victim. Maura had been so wrapped up in scanning the encased trays that she hadn't noticed the man carefully switching out the lower exhibit until her heel had unfortunately landed rather hard mid dorsum.

After the initial chaos of apologies and eventual introductions, he had allowed her to examine his hand. During the exchange he easily identified the pupal casing as _Chrysoperla carnea. _Thoroughly impressed, Maura had invited him to coffee to make up for the injury and they had passed a pleasant hour discussing his research and work as an adjunct professor. As she went to leave, she asked what else she could do to make up for injuring him and with a bashful smile he asked for her number.

Since that first coffee they had attended a visiting author lecture followed by cappuccino in the North End. Maura had invited him for dinner last Saturday and he had called almost immediately after to invite her out tonight. He had been a bit mysterious about the destination and she was rather charmed by the prospect. When she'd inquired about correct dress he had blushed and said he had never seen her in an outfit that wouldn't be perfect for where they were going.

He really was rather sweet. Duane lacked the slight intensity she usually found romantically attractive but his kind demeanor and keen intelligence were becoming rather appealing. His kiss goodnight after their last date may not have left her breathless but it did leave a warm feeling and a spark of curiosity behind.

After some additional reflection Maura decided perhaps she needed to expand beyond her usual gauge for potential dates. If there was not an immediate sexual draw, there was certainly a strong fondness developing that was deepening her interest in him as a bedmate. She rationalized that should her relationship with Duane turn physical and afterwards the experience inadequate, she would have at least have reconfirmed her ability to accurately assess potential for a physical relationship.

In any case he would be an improvement over her recent selections.

Maura was not surprised to hear the 7:00pm clock chime be echoed by a knock. With a smile she pulled open her front door. Duane was standing there with a smile as he adjusted his glasses. The odd pullover sweater he had selected was questionable in its fashion sense, but the small bunch of tulips he presented her with was a sweet gesture.

His cheek was warm under her lips and his cologne pleasing. "They're lovely, thank you. Come in for a moment while I take care of these."

After putting the arrangement in water on her kitchen island, Maura turned around and caught him looking. He blushed when he was caught staring, moving his eyes rapidly up and gesturing feebly towards her outfit. "You look amazing tonight. Thank you for coming out with me."

Maura gave him a smile in thanks as they walked out together, the words appreciated. He truly was a kind man, relationship material certainly for many women.

Once in the car the conversation flowed easily and Maura watched the sights of Boston slip by until they were crossing the bridge over the harbor. Duane pulled into a parking lot and paid the attendant. He jogged around the car to open her door. "It's time for the great reveal. I know a Wednesday night might seem a usual time for an invite out." He offered her a hand out. "And I know Southie might seem an odd choice."

Maura put her hand on his arm as they started to walk "Culturally speaking it is not the most traditional night for a date, but I have never been one to hold to purely traditional institutions or choices." She offered him a small smile. "And South Boston has many charms."

He looked relieved at her words. "And there is a point. I promised my younger brother I'd be in the audience for amateur night at Subculture. It's a small jazz club next street over on Athens. I thought you might enjoy the atmosphere. You have to audition so I can promise there will be some talent there."

Maura squeezed his arm lightly. "This is your youngest brother then? Roger?"

Duane nodded. "He's a good kid. Wants to be in an orchestra but he has the worst stage fright. He's trying to play as many of these nights as he can during college to get over it. He landed a gig here as back up for the solo vocalists."

"Has he tried hypnosis?" Maura was curious now.

"Yes. I'll hand it to the kid, he keeps trying. Hopefully he'll make it through tonight and they'll keep him on. His therapist thinks if he performs enough he will hopefully manage from now on during auditions." He stopped in front of a glassed in store front, the paint on the door chipped and the handle showing the patina of use.

Maura looked up at the sign, the lettering frayed, indicating the establishment had been in operation for awhile. That boded well for the level of entertainment. "Immersion therapy, I am familiar with it. It can be successful."

There was a cover to get in and they were lead to a table in the front that had been reserved for them. The space was dark and the conversation muted. It was a familiar laugh that caught her attention. Maura scanned the space and broke into a smile. "Duane come with me, I need you to meet some friends."

Tapping Frankie's shoulder Maura tried to understand why his look of shock bled into a slightly horrified expression that was instantly mirrored by Frost. Frankie's voice was almost a whisper. "Hey Maura."

Frost could only clear his throat at first. The only positive thing Jane had said all day was at least Maura had a date and wouldn't see her end up humiliated. They were all under death threats to keep the entire bet from Maura period. Yet here she was. Shit.

Frankie however seemed to have found his voice, gesturing to Maura and introducing her to Willy and the rest of table from Ladder 19. "Guys, this is Dr. Isles, our Chief Medical Examiner. I think some of you guys know her."

Maura gave a slight smile. "We do." She turned to Duane "I've worked with several of these gentlemen in some unfortunate arson cases." Maura stared at Frost trying to decipher why he was unwilling to make eye contact and seemed extremely uncomfortable. She wondered if she had overstepped her welcome. "We're going back to our table but I saw you sitting over here and wanted to come say hello before the music started." Uncertainty aside, social graces dictated an introduction before they left so Maura turned to her date. "Duane, this is Frankie Rizzoli, Jane's brother and her partner in homicide Barry Frost."

Duane held out his hand. "The brother of the best friend I have heard so much about. Pleasure." He reached out to Frost. "And the partner with the fine technology skills."

Frost shook Duane's hand but couldn't stop staring at Maura. "I have to ask, what are you doing in Southie?"

"Duane's brother is the saxophone for the vocalists. He invited me along to hear his debut. We're down in front." Maura gestured towards their table. "I didn't know you both enjoyed jazz."

"I don't exactly…" Frankie tried to hunt around for the right words when Frost jumped to his feet. "Maura can you come with me for a minute?" She had barely time to agree before she was pulled from Duane's side and towards the wall, out of earshot.

Frost seemed as frozen as Frankie had been moments earlier. After several long moments he finally leaned in. "Maura, I have something I need to tell you." But before he could continue the lights dimmed and Maura pulled away. "I'm sorry, I'll find you later Frost but I need to join my date back at our table."

Frost rubbed a hand over his head as he made his way back to the table and sat next to Frankie. The other man shared a look with him. "Don't get hopeful. I didn't have enough time to explain the situation to her. How in the hell did this happen?"

Frankie just groaned and chugged his beer. He could feel a headache coming on to match the throbbing in his wrapped ankle. Somehow he knew Jane was going to pin this on him.


	3. Chapter 3

See Ch 1 for disclaimers…

**DOUBLE POST TONIGHT – 3 & 4**

* * *

Jane watched the weird kid in the needlepoint sweater edge his way on stage and a moment later the Grease reject was sticking his glasses in his pocket, pushing away from the wall with a sigh and giving her a wink as he walked out on stage.

Music cued up and Jane realized she was playing with her hands and slapped her own thighs in exasperation. She wandered around the backstage area. One of the stagehands frowned and shook his head at her when she edged close to the curtain rope. She peered out, but it was impossible to see the audience with the glare of the lights. Grease Man was giving it all he had and Jane didn't think he was half bad. Needlepoint Sweater looked like he was melting or having a minor seizure under the lights but he was playing.

Jane pitied the kid. She knew that look. She had lived that look. The kid caught sight of her and she gave him a smile and two thumbs up. He still looked sick but he smiled a bit back. Good, somebody should benefit from this disaster in her life.

Of course seeing Grease Man end his set made her realize she was one more act closer. Jane went to shove her hands in her pockets and hit the smooth material of her dress instead. Fuck.

There was no way she was going to be able to do this. Why in the hell had she taken that bet? They had already been down by two when Willy had started clucking again and Jane had spiked the ball at him. She'd been yelling something about his entire ancestry when Frankie had pulled her back. Then Frost had to go ask what was with the chicken noises.

Willy was laughing. "Chicken Little never told you about her illustrious singing career?" And just like that Ladder 19 and a fair bit of Boston's Finest heard word for word exactly what the spring of 1994 had been like for her.

Complete with sound effects.

Perhaps that might have obliterated the last of her good sense. Perhaps the game might have turned tad bit dirty. But it certainly had evened the score. Until Ladder 19 caught on. Those guys ran around carrying heavy equipment for a living. A rational person would have remembered that fact. Jane sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, she hadn't been exactly rational at the time.

No, instead of using a bit of common sense she'd shoulder checked Willy out of the way and yelled at Frankie to move his ass. They'd been running a pretty sweet layup when Willy grabbed the back of her shirt and she'd landed on her ass. He ran the ball and scored a 3 pointer and did the fucking chicken dance after.

Naturally Frankie picked that moment to remember he was her brother she obviously needed his protection. As if that had ever gone well for them growing up. He walked back up the court, shoving Willy hard as he stormed by and uttered those words that sealed her fate. "That the best you got carrot top? Like you could have done better?"

The stakes were set. Loser sang at Willy's cousin's jazz bar on open mike night. Jane narrowed her gaze and Willy met it evenly. Then the ball up, there was a shout and the game was back on.

Five minutes later Frankie was rolling on the ground holding his ankle and the rest of her boys from the BPD might be able to toss a ball around a court, but they weren't from Southie. They didn't grow up cutting their teeth on streetball.

Unlike most of the boys from Ladder 19.

To put it mildly they were screwed.

Even worse, the number of points they finally lost by was embarrassing. Covered in sweat she'd been flipping the cooler open when the offer been yelled out by the cheering Ladder 19 squad for double-or-nothing. An intelligent person would have conceded and walked away.

But not Jane Rizzoli. Oh no she'd told the assholes to bring it. Because no way in hell would she possibly be the one wearing a dress. Willy would look fabulous in taffeta.

Jane realized that while her stubborn streak was an asset to her job, it had at times, as Maura put it, a tendency to obfuscate a good decision from a poor one.

Oh and it certainly fucking obfuscated her all the way into being the next one on stage this time. In a damn dress.

In a last desperate act Jane grabbed the nearest stage crew member. "Listen carefully. Tell the lighting guy I want it at half power. I'm sweating so much I'm going to be able to skate my way on the damn stage and I do not want to make a clear image for YouTube." He looked ready to argue until she pulled her badge out of her cleavage. "I'm begging you. Make it happen and I promise the next traffic ticket is on me. "


	4. Chapter 4

See Ch 1 for disclaimers…

**DOUBLE POST TONIGHT – 3 & 4 **

* * *

Maura clapped as the vocalist left. "Roger is doing very well." Duane murmured his agreement, eyes twinkling, face creased in a large grin as he signaled for the waitress. Maura took a moment to appreciate his genuine excitement for his brother's accomplishment. Not unlike Jane when she was proud of Frankie.

And earlier when she noticed that the two brothers wore matching sweaters Maura had to enquire and found out that their mother had made both. Duane's mother had retired to North Carolina last year and sent the sweaters so she could be there in spirit. It was something she could see Angela doing. Like Jane, Duane appeared to enjoy a strong bond with his family.

While Duane ordered them both a second drink Maura covertly studied his features. She wondered what Jane would think of him, or if she would approve. Jane would probably appreciate his manners and his family ties. She would probably not appreciate the fact that he actually wore the matching sweater.

But then again, perhaps she would. Jane had a tendency to be unpredictable in her social response.

After the waitress left Duane asked about the case that has originally introduced them and Maura was trying to explain how Jane had managed to get the suspect to confess when the lights went low. She dropped her voice to a whisper, waiting for the stage lights to come up.

Jane counted each step off in her head as she made her way to the mike. Step one, past the curtain, step two, visible to the audience, step three into the light, step four take a deep breath, until final step five and she had reached the microphone.

And not died. Good.

The guys had left the lights low and she closed her eyes when the smooth metal was against her palm. It would all be over in a few minutes. She could do this.

Jane cleared her throat and jumped slightly when she heard it through the sound system. Her palms were moist and she left the microphone on the stand, adjusting it up. Her heart was hammering hard enough that she could barely swallow. She had to do this. Had to. But she was going to put a disclaimer out first.

Jane took a deep breath and started speaking, wincing when her voice sounded thin and high pitched. "I'm sure everyone here tonight is here for the music. I'm here because I lost a bet." That made a few people chuckle.

Maura was partway through trying to explain how the pupal casing had assisted in pinpointing the original murder location when a voice floated through the sound system and she turned to the stage, mouth still open.

Jane let out an exhale, that wasn't so horrible. She cleared her voice again and it came out slightly louder. "So I can't promise music but I can promise entertainment." More light laughter. Good.

Maura was trying to reconcile the image she was seeing on stage. Unruly brunette waves. Habitual shifting of restless energy as thumbs ran reflexively over scars. Maura ran her eyes over and along a little black dress that ended over long thighs and shapely calves. All so familiar, but not. Out of place and out of character.

Jane realized she was flexing her hands again and stilled them. "So bear with me while I try not to butcher Billie Holiday's Glad to be Unhappy."

The title of the tune made Maura jerk, her hand flying forward hitting her almost empty wine glass. The glass teetered before falling over, rolling to shatter on the floor. Maura sprung to her feet, flushing heat scorching her cheeks, narrowly avoiding the stream of red liquid even as her eyes locked back on the stage.

The shattering glass caused a moment of silence in the room. Jane's eyes were drawn down to the front row table and her breath caught. She missed the piano and saxophone starting her lead in. Jane tried to understand exactly what she was seeing. Because it couldn't be right. It had to be an illusion brought on by pure fear or one of the guys at their table was going to die. Slowly.

Jane blinked but the sight didn't change. What in the hell was Maura doing here? The one person she would rather not actually witness Spring Extravaganza 2.0 was not only here but she was here with a date.

A needlepoint sweater wearing date.

Jane shook her head slightly. Maura looked fucking amazing and it was wasted on some guy in an overly loud sweater. In fact it sort of looked like what the sax player had on. What friggin fashion trend was she unaware of?

Maura was apologizing softly to the wait staff as they rapidly cleaned up. How had Jane known about that tune? She had to have known. Maura couldn't remember mentioning it but there couldn't be any other explanation. Why else would she have picked that particular song? She realized the familiar lead-in was playing and Maura looked back to the stage.

Maura was looking right at her. Jane swallowed, staring back. For a moment her surroundings faded into a faint buzz.

When their eyes met Maura realized Jane was not simply uncomfortable as her anxious motions had inferred during her introduction. This was something more. Jane seemed almost terrified. Maura kept her gaze locked in as she sat back down, picking up the new glass of wine and taking a small sip.

Maura's eyes were liquid safety. Jane realized the lead-in music was being repeated. She took a deep breath and counted the beat. Maura gave her a long, slow smile that wrapped around her and suddenly the tune she had picked so long ago became perfect. The words held a meaning beyond what they did when she was 17.

It was if Jane was singing only for her. Maura felt the caress of each utterance start to course through her. The words were well known, but the familiar voice softly singing them was not.

The dulcet tone was the warmth of fire wicking at her skin on a cold winter's night. It was the sultry breeze of summer teasing at relief from a burning heat. The brown eyes staring into hers hinted at secrets well hidden and stories left untold.

Maura brought the glass to her lips and drank deeply.

By the second refrain Jane knew that if people could be defined by music that this would be their song. She and Maura. They sang this tune every day. The words pushed out from within, growing in power.

Maura could feel the confidence radiating off the stage. Her Jane was back. The voice giving life to the music deepening as it grew in strength, melting a path through her. Whatever message Maura once thought the words to define was obliterated. This verse, this music, surely existed to illustrate her existence with Jane.

The last note was floating off her lips before Jane was cognizant that the song was truly over. Maura was immobile, staring back at her. There was clapping in the background heralding the moment she had been waiting for all night. It was time to get off the stage. Except to do that she would have to break contact.

Maura realized the audience was clapping and closed her eyes briefly as she joined in with the crowd. When she opened her eyes again Jane was looking around the room with a slightly bashful expression.

Jane glanced around the tables, trying not to laugh at the sight of Frankie knocking fists with Frost. Freaking Willy gave her two thumbs up and she shook her head at him but gave him a smirk in victory.

She had won this one.

Because of Maura.

Jane whipped her head back to Maura and the other woman was still sitting there, her face split by a smile, clapping. When they made eye contact again Maura's expression took a hint of something mysterious. Something Jane wanted to identify. Jane mouthed thank you and the smile turned enigmatic. Then Maura gave her a languid wink and Jane felt it flutter in her stomach.

When Jane finally turned to walk off stage Maura remembered she was here as Duane's date. She turned to him and he was studying her.

Duane had watched Maura's face during the entire performance. "Friend of yours?"

"That was Jane." Maura forced herself not to look over to the table where Frankie and Frost were sitting to see if Jane had rejoined them.

Duane nodded. "Ah, yes, finally. The mystery woman I have heard so much about. Funny that she was on here tonight and Roger was her back up. You never mentioned she sang jazz."

"I didn't know." Maura gave into the urge to look and turned around in time to see Jane hit Frankie hard on the back of the head. It was true, she didn't know how or why Jane was here, but she would before the night was through. She turned back to Duane. "Would you mind if we went over to congratulate her?"

Duane let out a long sigh. "Absolutely not." Maura was clearly no longer focused on him. He had been in the position enough times in the past to realize the date was over. "Jane was the last vocalist Roger was playing for. Would you like to head out for dinner now?"

Maura nodded, not entirely sure what she was agreeing to as she lead the way to the table but she'd figure it out on the way home. When she was almost to Jane's table she could make out a spirited argument complete with what sounded like random poultry noises. Odd. She walked up behind Jane just as the brunette launched an ice cube at the red hair of Will McNally from Ladder 19.

Jane jumped when two hands squeezed her shoulders but the familiar perfume made her relax before she looked up. "Hey Maura. Join us?"

"I can't, we have plans, but you never told me you were a jazz vocalist." Maura ignored the dramatic eye roll leveled up at her and leaned down to whisper in Jane's ear. "That was simply beautiful. However, you have some explaining to do. Call me."

Jane flinched a bit at the tone and nodded, goose bumps prickling her skin.

Maura said her farewells, giving a last lingering squeeze to the shoulders under her hands before allowing Duane to guide her from the bar.

* * *

A/N – Yes! You all seem to be in the mood for a fun little story by the reviews. I've loved seeing some familiar names and hi to the new ones.

Two chapters tonight since 3 was short and I think I'll do the same for the next two so we're almost to the end already :( I'll take the M votes and likely add onto the final chapter (in progress). So if you don't normally search for "M" you'll need to when I swap out the rating or put this on alert.


	5. Chapter 5

See Ch 1 for disclaimers…

**DOUBLE POST TONIGHT – 5 & 6 (end)  
**

* * *

A few hours later Jane was sitting in her car with her phone in hand. She winced a little when she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth as she chewed at the surface, replaying the whispered words. She rubbed her upper arm, remembering the tingle.

Did Maura mean call her tonight? Jane had spent the entire time since Maura had left trying to figure that out. Probably not by the way she was dressed. By Jane's estimation, that wasn't an outfit for a casual night out. That was an outfit designed to make an offer. It wasn't blatant but at least to her it was loud and clear.

And why use the word "plans". What did they have planned? Why not simply say they had dinner reservations or whatever like almost anybody else would do? Maura never randomly said anything. That had a particular meaning. Damn if Jane knew what it was though.

With a small groan, Jane rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Maura possessed a unique ability to be ambiguous at the best of times, tonight she was downright maddening.

Hitting the power button on her car radio Jane cracked an eye open as the time illuminated. Half past 10. Bug Boy was probably cruising past second base at this point. Jane flipped the phone around in her hands. Finally she put it down before grasping the steering wheel and turning the key. The engine roared to life. She sat there tapping the steering wheel with her fingers before letting it go with a sigh and picking the phone back up.

Jane slid the unlock bar on her phone and the electronic glow illuminated the interior of the car and stared at the phone app. Maybe Bug Boy wasn't rounding the bases and she'd catch Maura before her night got busy. Not that it looked all that promising to her at any rate. For fuck's sake the guy was wearing a pullover sweater in a club. It would probably take him hours to work up the balls to take on Maura.

Which would also make him an idiot.

So really, she was doing Maura a favor if she called tonight. No sense in Maura wasting her time with an idiot. Nope, thinking about it, Jane was rather sure he probably hadn't worked up the nerve to even kiss Maura. What kind of long term ability did a guy like that have to keep Maura happy? She deserved more than that. So in this situation, calling would be the best thing a friend could do. No point in Maura wasting her effort on a guy that was destined to be future disappointment.

Nodding to herself, Jane hit Maura's name and listened to the phone ring until voicemail picked up. She didn't bother to leave a message as her stomach twisted thickly.

Well that answered that question.

Maybe a pullover sweater was the key to a guy getting a guided tour of Maura's bedroom. Her throat constricted and she let out a short breath.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Jane rubbed sweaty palms on her thighs and remembered she was still in the dress. She plucked at the surface. Sooner she was out of this thing, the sooner she could put this awful night behind her. Tomorrow the entire debacle would be a story to deflect at the precinct and life would go on as usual. That made sense. Sitting in her car debating calling Maura and getting upset when she didn't answer did not.

Shifting the car into gear Jane was backing out of the parking spot when her phone buzzed with a text. Putting the car back into park she picked the phone up. She wasn't sure what to make of the words. Jane read the words again, muttering them aloud "Finishing up here. Porch light is on."

With a sigh Jane returned her head to the back of her seat. Finishing up? Finishing up with what? They had only parted a few of hours ago. Surely the guy had better technique than that. And if he didn't, she was pretty fucking positive Maura did. She shook her head. She did not want to go there. One hundred and ten present sure she didn't want to go there.

And face to face meant that Maura would want to talk about the wonderful attributes of Bug Boy and she was not in the mood for that. Guy probably kissed like a leech or something. All sucking slime with a potential for blood loss. It was gross to think about.

It also meant Maura wanted the whole sordid tale of why she was up on stage tonight and wanted to analyze Jane as she shared it. Her long night just got longer.

Jane sat up with a smile. But then again, having a discussion in person also meant one other thing.

Bug Boy was apparently not sleeping over. She had totally called that right. She was going to point out to Maura that she needed to date someone with a little more backbone. Insects didn't even have skeletons as far as she knew. Idiot probably tried to impress her with his butterfly collection or something equally stupid. Insects were hardly going to set the mood.

That thought made her pause. But this was Maura. Maura would actually probably like looking at his bug collection. Might even find it intellectually sexy or whatever beautiful mind crap she prattled on about. The only collection Jane sort of had was random sports memorabilia. And she only had that because there had to be something on her apartment walls.

It took a moment, but when Jane realized she was sitting in her car, comparing herself to Maura's latest boyfriend, she hit her forehead against the steering wheel and stayed there. Again, what in the hell was wrong with her tonight?

This night needed to be over. Yesterday. And the faster their little bonding session was over with the faster this whole night could be history.

With that blissful thought Jane put the car back into drive.


	6. Chapter 6

See Ch 1 for disclaimers…

**DOUBLE POST TONIGHT – 5 & 6 (end) & prompt reveal in the A/N  
**

* * *

Maura opened her door to find Jane twisting as she tried to look over her own shoulder, hands tugging at the back of her dress. Fighting to swipe her hair out of her face as she turned around, Jane seemed to examine her for a long moment before sighing and tugging at the hem again.

"Stupid thing won't stop riding up. How in the heck do you do this almost every day?" Jane tried not stare but there was something about Maura standing there, still dressed for the night with the hall light at her back that screamed 'touch me if you dare.' Jane blinked. How in the heck did Maura manage to do stuff like that? There must be a dating manual out there that she missed getting.

Annoyed with herself, Jane brushed past Maura and tried not to react to whatever perfume she was wearing, but dear lord she smelled good. Leaning over, prying her feet out of the heels from hell, she couldn't help but notice Maura's pants fit her particularly well. Especially from the back.

The second that thought crossed her mind Jane almost fell over taking off her last shoe. She rubbed her eyes briefly. If she was reacting like this, she could only imagine what Bug Boy went through. That guy was totally out of his league with Maura.

Maura turned from the door as Jane give a hedonistic groan as she kicked off her final shoe and headed through the living room. The picture of Jane, with her hair askew, encased in a short black dress, bare feet stalking towards her kitchen screamed edgy and untamed.

This was pure, 100% undiluted Jane Rizzoli.

And it was quite enjoyable.

Maura made her way into the kitchen and tried to get Jane to look at her as she sagged against her kitchen counter. "Are you hungry?" When Jane didn't answer Maura walked over and stopped her hands from fussing with her dress. "Would you stop playing with your dress? You are going to ruin it."

Jane rolled her eyes but let go of the material. "Fabulous channel stitching aside, this thing is a straight jacket. It's irritating me. I can't even sit in it comfortably." Which was true, but with Maura in that outfit it had the additional benefit of giving her something to do with her hands. "Forget the food and the dress for a minute. Why didn't Bug Boy stay after the good night kiss? Was he uncoordinated with those eight legs? Or did he realize you owned a can of Raid?"

Maura turned around and leaned a hip against her counter and folded her arms across her chest. "Duane." She raised an eyebrow for emphasis. "Was a perfect gentleman. We enjoyed a light dinner and after I had agreed to help him design a lecture using pupal casings in investigative work." When Jane continued to stand there, lips drawn tightly together, Maura decided to shift the subject slightly. "His brother was your saxophonist tonight."

Jane nodded, muttering to herself. "Well that explains that."

"Explains what?" Maura was trying to figure out the change in direction the conversation was taking.

Waving her hand in circles, Jane shook her head. "Nothing, that sweater. You know what? Never mind." She focused back on Maura, sweeping her eyes along the way her hair was loosely coiled up and the length of her neck exposed. "A perfect gentleman huh? So what does that mean exactly?"

Maura tilted her head slightly. She had seen this look on Jane many times before. Interrogation mode. Sizing up the facts. Looking for clues. Trying to figure out the entire story. Interesting. "It means that I had a lovely night out and he continues to be a wonderful companion."

Jane shook her head. "Wonderful companion is what Jo Friday is. You want a wonderful companion ditch the turtle and get a dog." She didn't have long to wait before Maura's forehead wrinkled in frustration.

Irritated, Maura took a step towards Jane and noticed the other woman's breathing increase. Fascinating. "I'm not even going to bother correcting you. You know damn well what species Bass is."

Maura's voice had dropped in register. Jane tried not to squirm. She could feel Maura analyzing her. There was a certain tension surrounding them that felt highlighted by Maura's annoyance and Jane dropped her eyes when breathing became difficult.

Now Jane seemed intent on trying to avoid looking at her. Even more intriguing. Maura edged closer, irritation forgotten. "There is something to be said for dating someone who may not fit your preconceived notion of a romantic partner but whose companionship you also enjoy."

Jane pulled her fingers through her tangled hair. Did Maura even realize how that sounded? No way, no how was she going to touch that statement. Exasperated, Jane realized her eye was caught by the way the links of Maura's necklace seemed to circle the freckles smattering the surface of her chest. God damn it. She was doing it again. Losing control of her actions. Wasn't tonight enough of a reminder in losing control?

Tearing her eyes away, Jane stepped aside and stalked over to the refrigerator. "I'm getting something to drink. Do you want anything?"

Biting back a chuckle, Maura couldn't help but be amused by the way Jane owned her kitchen, half in her refrigerator without hesitation. When she didn't immediately answer Jane glanced over her shoulder and Maura pulled her eyes off Jane's backside. "Glass of the red I have open in there will be fine."

Jane debated the beer options before deciding she was already in a dress so why bother with the usual? Maura usually had exceptional taste in wine anyhow. "Well from what I can tell, your excellent companion barely made it past the front door. Which doesn't exactly surprise me."

Maura couldn't tell if she should be offended or not, as she watched Jane arch up on the balls of her feet to pull down a couple of wine glasses. "Dare I ask why this doesn't surprise you?"

Jane put the glasses on the counter before she glanced over at Maura. "Oh come on a guy like that one? With the sweater, and the blushing? And a woman like you? Are you seriously asking me that?" She turned her attention back to filling both glasses and missed the v of confusion forming between Maura's eyes.

Maura walked over to Jane and deliberately stood against her side as she picked up one of the glasses. "What do you mean, precisely, by a 'woman like me'?"

Spinning to face Maura mid sip, Jane took a small step back and gestured to her with her wine glass. "Oh come on! You can't be serious."

Frowning Maura narrowed her gaze. "I assure you, I am serious." She took a slow sip. "What do you mean 'a woman like me'?" Jane's hair was standing up a bit on the right side and Maura resisted the urge to smooth it back in place.

Jane waved her hand at Maura. "Of all the stupid questions." By her estimation that was answer enough. For the love of god, it needed to be and she had to stop running her mouth. Maura simply raised her eyebrows.

Well shit. This was not her night.

Jane took a drink while she tried to figure a way out of the conversation. This wasn't going like she intended. Maura continued to wait, silent, refusing to give her an out. Growling, she gave in. "Fine okay, look that guy is sweet I'm sure."

Maura keep the surprise off her face when Jane echoed her own constant thoughts about Duane. He was sweet. It was a very nice attribute.

Jane took another drink. "I'm sure he opens doors and is never late. I'm sure he is thoughtful and whatever else it takes to be a nice guy in a needlepoint sweater that studies bugs for a living." She ignored Maura's warning glare. "But really, you have got to be kidding me. He's pure milk toast."

Maura put her hand on her hip. "How does a breakfast option define a man's suitability as dating material for me? But you are trying to change the subject. I didn't ask your opinion on Duane. I asked you what you meant in reference to me."

"I just explained what I meant!" Jane put down her glass with an exasperated sigh when Maura shook her head negatively. So Maura wanted it straight up? No problem. "Okay it's like this. That guy couldn't find his dick with a mirror and an illustrated guide. And you…" Jane drew an hourglass in the air, her voice growing in volume. "You're fucking sex on a stick. His type doesn't have the balls to handle you." When she stopped talking she realized Maura was staring at her, analyzing every inch of her.

Jane was standing in front of her, slightly breathless from her diatribe and Maura realized the secrets hinted at from the stage were swirling between them. Somewhat undefined but recognizable. She let the silence stretch while she sipped at her wine and Jane started to twitch. "Okay then answer me this. Who, exactly, should I be dating?"

Something altered, changed and Jane wasn't sure exactly what it was but Maura was looking at her in a way that scared her shitless. No way in hell was she answering that question. She'd seen this look before. Like out on that double date with Jorge or that mysterious glimmer in Maura's teasing glance when Dennis had been a possibility. She had even felt sparks of it directed at her. Little flashes in the intimate moments between them, but they gone before she even realized they had happened.

Leaving her a little breathless but whole.

But now that look was focused directly on her. Jane picked back up her glass and took a hesitant sip, trying not to squirm. "Hell if I know. Not him." And that was all she was saying. Maura could torture her and she wasn't saying on more word. Period.

"Why were you at the jazz club tonight?" Maura took another sip. Jane was not getting out of this conversation. Not tonight.

Jane swallowed another sip of wine quickly in relief. She never thought she'd be glad to relive this story. "I lost a bet. Remember that pickup game I went to with the guys last Friday?" When Maura nodded she looked away and continued. "In high school Ma forced me to take voice lessons as a senior credit and one of the expectations was I had to perform on stage at the Senior Spring Extravaganza."

Jane let out a long sigh. "Let's just say it didn't go so well. I pretty much squawked like a chicken and bolted off stage. Thanks to me, the entire school developed an ability to mimic a strangled chicken. McNally was in my class. Subculture is his cousin's place. Loser had to perform. End of story."

Well that certainly explained the poultry noises she had heard. Maura waited for Jane to look back at her. She studied the unruly waves, the pensive expression, looked back into dark eyes. "Why that particular tune?"

Jane shrugged. "It was the one I had picked out back in high school. I don't know. Seemed easier."

"Your senior year." Maura considered the verse and the meaning of the tune. "So it was about Casey?" When Jane shrugged Maura felt a tug of disappointment. It perturbing that this song had been directed towards him but Maura didn't want to analyze why. It was easier this way.

The second Maura looked away Jane's hand shot out without her permission. Her fingers were around Maura's wrist before she realized it and she glanced at her own hand in surprise. "I was in high school." Jane could feel her heartbeat pick up, the next words tentative. "It was part of the bet, nothing more." Maura brought her eyes back up and this time was hard to hold her gaze.

Maura shivered. Her whole body was reacting and her equilibrium askew. Jane held the unique power to do this to her, seemingly at will. Desperate to regroup, Maura reached out with her free hand to brush lightly at a spot on Jane's neckline. "You need to take this to the dry cleaner."

Jane squeezed the wrist in her hand lightly but didn't move. "Okay."

Maura continued to stare at her hand against the black backdrop of Jane's dress and debated. Share or not? Stay here or let Jane in even deeper in to those private crevices she was uniquely able to discover?

"That song has a particular meaning for me."

Jane recognized the tone in Maura's voice and stepped a little closer, waiting.

The material was smooth under her fingers. Maura sighed. "I made a mistake my junior year in high school. There was a young man that seemed interested in me." Maura shifted closer to Jane. "I was curious. He was willing." Her hand stilled. "It was a mistake. A poor decision on my part. A very, very, poor decision. One that had public ramifications, not entirely unlike your own experience."

The memories made her shiver and Maura was surprised it still bothered her. It was an interesting feeling, sharing this specific memory. A little surprising that it still felt raw. Wholly illogical. Jane was standing there silent and patient, listening. Maura removed her hand and rested her forehead down against Jane's shoulder.

Permission granted, Jane brought her arms around Maura and held her, thumbs stroking softly.

"I was naive enough that I hadn't yet managed to separate out sex from affection. I was having a difficultly at the time with not knowing my biological origins and the intimacy of the actions surrounding sex were appealing. It was hard afterwards when he was no longer interested. Intellectually I knew the probability of that outcome was high but living through the actuality was a lesson I was ill prepared for." Maura let herself mold to Jane. "It was the Frank Sinatra version but, those lyrics mixed with the refrain about the stray baby lamb without a mother or a father?" She laughed into the warmth of Jane's hold. "I believe I wore out my tape." Maura shook her head at her own theatrics and just breathed. "Inane I know, but such are the foibles of youth right?"

"I don't know. I'm almost 40 and I still can't separate out sex from affection. That must have hurt. And to paraphrase a wise woman I know, he didn't deserve you." Jane sighed when Maura laughed silently into her shoulder and didn't move away. The next words fell from her lips without conscious thought. "I wasn't singing to Casey tonight."

Maura lifted her head as her pulse started hammering at the words.

It took a moment but reality hit. Jane stilled her hands. Her blood ran cold and her stomach twisted. Of all the god damn stupid times to let her mouth get away from her. "Maura, I…"

Jane looked terrified. When their eyes met Maura wanted to look away. There would be no ability to separate sex and affection here. But this was Jane needing her so she stayed, open and exposed.

She swallowed, her chest feeling constricted. "I haven't had it yet." It came out as a whisper.

Jane desperately wanted to move but she couldn't. "What?"

Maura leaned back slightly. "My goodnight kiss. I haven't had it yet."

Jane could feel her heart thundering as hard as it had on stage. A tendril of hair had escaped from Maura's twist and curled over her eye. Jane could barely breathe as she gently stroked the side of Maura's face as she tucked the strand behind her ear.

Maura closed her eyes at the brush of fingers along her skin. Jane was trembling slightly and cold hand cupped her jaw. She opened her eyes seeing, need, want, fear and affection reflecting back at her. Maura leaned up, "Don't be scared."

It was the same place of safety and adoration that had held her up in the club. The same magnetic pull that had drawn the words out, strong and sure, pulled her closer, down, to waiting lips. Jane started slightly at the first soft touch. Electric.

Maura bunched the material of Jane's dress in her hand. The first brush of lips played sharply within her. It was only the barest of touches and when Jane pulled back slightly she could barely catch her breath.

Opening her eyes briefly, Jane could see her own need mirrored. The fear dissolved, leaving a wanting ache in its wake until Maura reached back up and soothed her. Lost in taste, lost in quiet sighs, Jane let the tempo build.

There were chords within her that Jane seemed capable of playing at will and Maura's body responded willingly. She craved, she needed and she wanted. It was stepping to the edge of reason and waiting to fall off the cliff. It was senses building beyond her control and intensity ripping down her spine. When Jane slipped her hands under her shirt along the bare skin of her back, Maura broke the kiss roughly.

Pulling Jane down Maura offered in her ear. "I made my bed today."

Neither was leading or following. There was a stop in the living room and one in the front hallway. Lips traveled down necks as hands augmented each break in rhythm, unzipping a dress, shedding pants. They were operating in broken time now, the tempo alternating as clothing dropped to the floor.

With a flick of a wrist the light in the bedroom was diminished. Soft sighs fused when bare skin connected and in the dark final restraints were set free.

It was harmonic rhythm in undefined scale. Half time, double time, wet paths over breasts and down curves. It was whispered verse against straining thighs and refrain transposed against need. Hot timbre built across bridging backs and channeled want. Bodies climbed as hips set a cadence. Reaching up, sliding down.

Building until a pressing touch plunged deeply.

Eyes met.

It was stop-time in the interlude until need broke through and seeking lips begged for the beat. It was the cross-rhythm tightening between them, a riff running up, higher and faster, harder and longer until hands grabbed tightly.

And the chorus broke free.

There was a vacuum of silence except for labored breathing.

Maura slowly loosened her grip along Jane's back. She pressed a kiss to salty skin and felt a tender press of lips to her forehead. She opened her eyes.

Maura's eyes were liquid safety and Jane fell into them. Maura gave her a long, slow smile that wrapped around her and Jane captured her lips in a teasing kiss that ended in soft laughter.

Running her hands through Jane's hair, letting the curl tangle around them, Maura reached up to kiss Jane's chin. "Out of all the scenarios I pictured for this evening this was hardly one of them."

Jane kissed the corner of Maura's mouth, lips moving against the skin. "No? I caught you off guard then?"

Maura shook her head negatively and arched her neck, inviting Jane to explore, shivering as lips traveled slowly along her skin and up to her ear. "You have a tendency to do that."

Maura's perfume teased her senses. Jane couldn't stop her hand from roaming over a bare hip. "Good. It will keep you on your toes." She let her hand drift lower. "Any complaints?'

Tightening her hands in Jane's hair, Maura pulled her up, exploring her lips, welcoming Jane in. Breaking free she pressed closer. "No. Do you?"

Palming soft skin over a toned abdomen, Jane traced a lazy circle. "Only one."

Maura welcomed Jane's weight as she leaned down trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. "What complaint would that be?"

Jane nuzzled the soft skin of Maura's breast before kissing her way up along freckled skin. She braced on an elbow and traced the slope of Maura's check with her finger. "I totally owe Ladder 19 right now and that is just wrong."

Laughing, Maura slid a leg up and rolled them over, leaning down just close enough that their breasts brushed. "Ahhh, I see now." She kissed Jane lightly along her jaw. "We can't have that I suppose."

Jane shivered as Maura's hand ran up her side.

Maura let her lips trace the surface of Jane's ear, whispering as she pulled her closer. "I bet I'll find a way to make it up to you."

Jane groaned when Maura's hand covered her breast. "Okay, I'll totally take that bet." She ran her hand up the inside of Maura's thigh, feeling the muscles twitch.

Their eyes met. Jane stroked closer.

"How about we make that double-or-nothing?"

* * *

A/N -You all want to know what? I have very special readers. The reviews and the PMs over the past few days… I honestly never thought anybody would truly notice I was taking a little writing break. Sort of an out of sight/mind philosophy. Between the response here and Boston Strong – I'll try to pay better attention and put a few shorts out even if I'm busy. If people are reading then I'll share.

And hopefully this did its job and left you all with some laughter.

So anyhow, about a week back I put out a Tumblr "prompt me" because life is hectic enough to put aside the longer, more involved story but I wanted to still write. I now have some thoughts for at least two more prompts that I can see and a possible third. I love prompts because it is a chance to share someone else's imagination. The stories always seem to be some of the most loved so who can beat that?

Okay here is the prompt from Argyle_S – Let me know if you think it was answered :)

"_**Maura's date takes her to a Southie Blues Club. They arrive while the band is on a break, sit down and get their drinks, and are engrossed in conversation. They don't notice the 'band' come back, until the piano starts, and Jane starts singing something so low and sultry Maura just melts"**_


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